


the end of all things

by ferim



Series: (over and over) [3]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Elemental Magic, Healing, High Seas, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:56:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26614078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ferim/pseuds/ferim
Summary: “you can’t keep doing this.” sylvain has heard these words before but never with this much desperation.“don’t ask for death.”sylvain wakes up after a close call with felix at his bedside.for sylvix week 2020 (healing, injuries, and the high seas)
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: (over and over) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1932850
Comments: 5
Kudos: 37
Collections: Sylvix Week 2020 Fic Collection





	the end of all things

**Author's Note:**

> tfw i was busy the whole day but i guess it's fine?? it's only almost 9pm here so! azure moon route but at sea + a retelling of their famous a+ support :)
> 
> i like writing things like this lmao. not cause it looks easier but cause i like writing styles that echo what the pov is feeling/experiencing. case in point: sylvain's confused and injured self for this fic. 
> 
> (v sorry for any typos since ive been getting dizzy lately)

His room.

It was his room.

Sylvain was in his room.

There’s water floating above him, close enough to touch.

His head hurt.

It takes him far longer to get his bearings, but the water continues to flow on top of him. It’s glowing. Pretty. Just like its owner.

“Fe?” It’s a chore to try and get his voice out, throat raw and dry. It’s a chore. It’s a chore to do anything.

His head hurt. Everything follows.

Felix is nearby, he knows, but Sylvain cannot even move his head to make sure.

His chest hurt. Everything follows.

The water above him twitches. Sylvain thinks Felix does the same.

“Be quiet.” He hears a voice, tired — vexed. The water moves away from Sylvain’s eyesight. He wants to lift his hand. He doesn’t want it to leave.

Maybe Felix knew that, because the water returns followed by an exasperated tone.

“You’re still injured,” Felix tells him. The water touches Sylvain this time, moving along his chest, his arms, his legs. It goes all the way up to his neck. It doesn’t cover his face.

Soothing.

The water is glowing. Felix’s water. There’s light from Sylvain’s window, bright sunlight. It doesn’t compare to the glow.

It glows all pretty. Pretty and soothing.

Sylvain still feels tired, but the water is calming.

It’s everywhere, like he’s floating.

Cool to the touch, almost a chill. It makes Sylvain’s finger twitch.

He’s tired. He thinks he wants to thank the water’s master.

He’s tired. His injuries prevent him.

“This was idiotic,” Sylvain hears Felix again. There’s anger, frustration. More is laced in the seams than usual.

“You were idiotic,” Felix repeats. Sylvain wants to answer.

He tries, starts to say a name.

But it’s hard. He barely gets a syllable out. His throat is painful, horribly dry.

The water moves to cover his mouth.

“Shut up.” There’s a hiss. “You were stupid.”

Sylvain doesn’t open his mouth. The glowing water lays on top of it.

In the back of his mind, he wonders if this is all the water that Felix normally has drifting around him.

It glows like when it’s on Felix. Ever changing, Sylvain thinks it’s prettiest when it forms the shape of a veil. Like brides in weddings. Now it’s all over him, soothing his injuries.

He doesn’t know how much he has at the moment, mind too fuzzy.

It keeps moving on top of him, much like the waves outside the ship. Soothing.

It’s all so soothing.

Sylvain feels so tired.

The water on his mouth recedes, moving back to his neck.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” It sounds angry even with how Sylvain’s mind is so muddled. His mind feels clouded. Maybe it’s why he hears despair in Felix’s voice.

Did the attack earlier injure him that badly?

His wounds shouldn’t be that bad.

But Felix continues. He’s upset. Sylvain doesn’t like it when he’s upset. He sounds sad all the while.

“You can’t keep doing this.” Sylvain has heard these words before but never with this much desperation. The water twitches again. Felix speaks. “Don’t ask for death.”

But he doesn’t. Sylvain knows he doesn’t. He just met Felix again after years of separation. Granted, the reunion is on a ship stolen by a man broken in all forms, but it’s okay. For now.

Dimitri is bringing them on a quest set to fail, but it’s okay. He just met Felix again. It’s fine for now. He wants to tell him that, really wants to. Sylvain opens his mouth. His throat feels dry.

A puff of air comes out instead.

The water on him stills.

And then. “Don’t do that again.” Felix’s face comes into view.

There’s a frown.

He’s frowning.

His cheeks are dusted pink, eyes close to a similar color.

He’s angry.

“Don’t give yourself up and expect me to deal with the aftermath.” It’s the same warning, over and over. It sounds dejected.

Sylvain feels his back being lifted, and he’s made to sit. Felix is helping him up.

The water all over him pools on his lap. None of his clothes are damp.

Felix beckons something with his other arm, and water that’s not glowing floats to Sylvain’s face.

Sylvain is tired. His throat feels sore.

He drinks.

Felix speaks.

“You always do this.” Sylvain doesn’t respond, taking small sips. “You play around but always show up when we need you.”

Sylvain keeps drinking. Small sips. He drinks slowly.

It’s a chore.

He feels weak, terribly so.

“Don’t risk your life for that, dumbass.”

Enraged and sullen. Yet Felix’s voice is still so pretty.

Two more sips before Sylvain stops. It’s a chore, a chore to do anything. He’s so, so tired.

Felix helps him lie back down. The water on him leaves.

He makes sure Sylvain keeps seeing his face. The water’s returned to him.

There’s a hand on Sylvain’s chest. It grips tightly to his shirt, too tight.

The water divides itself, projectiles hovering on Felix’s sides. Deadly, dangerous. Sylvain sees it clearly.

The grip on his shirt feels tighter.

“Don’t risk your life and end up sleeping for four days.” Ah.

Is that why he’s tired? He feels stiff everywhere, injured everywhere.

Is that why Felix looks ready to cry?

He looks directly at Sylvain. That’s rare. Sylvain stares back. Tries his best to.

Felix is frowning, still frowning. He’s upset.

Sylvain tries to smile. A chore.

It’s hard to do anything. Too tired.

He hopes Felix noticed. But Felix frowns harder, eyes shining.

“Try that again and I’ll heal you up and shoot you myself.”

Oh.

Is that where the numb feeling is from? Sylvain feels it in more than one place.

He doesn’t quite recall how it happened, where he got hurt.

All he remembers is Felix, wounded and exhausted. He was surrounded. There was no water hovering around him for protection. In its place was his own blood.

Sylvain recalls the red, bright and shining. And he ran toward it to prevent any more. Everything else is clouded, only the feeling of terror remains in his mind.

Felix might have died.

But he didn’t.

And Sylvain is tired, but he’s glad.

Does it show on his face? His eyes? Because Felix’s jaw tightens. He hasn’t moved and they’re still eying each other.

“Take this seriously, you idiot,” Felix admonishes him. He’s still not looking away, a rarity. Sylvain doesn’t want him to.

Even rarer, the frown turns sorrowful.

“Don’t end up like them.” It’s so strange to hear Felix admit this, to see him struggle to say it. Sylvain thinks he means his family.

Felix’s hand on his chest stops gripping his shirt. It’s simply there now, palm against his chest. A real and warm presence.

Silence as the water quivers. The projectiles drift slowly, moving around Felix. It looks like a halo.

Very pretty. Beautiful.

There’s a whisper. Felix forces the words out.

“Don’t go where I can’t follow.”

And of course. Of course not. Their promise was built to last for two.

Sylvain tries, hardest he’s ever had since he woke up. It’s a chore, everything is, but he smiles.

He smiles, and forces his own words out.

But he’s still tired. The only word clearly heard was a whisper of _won’t_.

The waves keep crashing. The ship keeps moving.

The water on Felix’s head forms a halo so pretty.

Sylvain is tired.

He thinks it’s lovely.

Pretty. Pretty man with a halo glowing gold, sorrow and love and everything else in between.

Sylvain tries, tries one more time, whispers the closest thing to the word _promise._

And Felix leans close, Sylvain’s promise passing between their lips.

**Author's Note:**

> i have a whole list for the songs used as the titles. all sporadically arranged in one playlist. maybe ill link it once it's all done even if some dont relate much to their stories anymore ? maybe!


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